


As far as I'm concerned, being any gender is a drag.

by OldEnoughToKnowBetter



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gender, Sexual exploration, Young Love, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10871304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldEnoughToKnowBetter/pseuds/OldEnoughToKnowBetter
Summary: Exploration, with a sparkly thing.





	As far as I'm concerned, being any gender is a drag.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote from Patti Smith I first read at around fifteen. It had a tremendous impact on my understanding of performative gender identity, as did Patti herself. I hope no-one will be upset by the simplistic notions of gender identity depicted here- Jughead is a teenager from a small town, with a performatively masculine (though queer-friendly!) father. I feel like his understanding of gender would be evolving rapidly but not that sophisticated to start.

I've always thought of masculinity as a hassle. Most of the people I respect are female, so being a guy just seemed like another strike against me. Poor, weird, Alanon teen with an inconvenient penis. Obviously, machismo and manliness have not exactly served my dad.

When puberty came on I resisted for a long time. I didn't like the idea of some addictive pleasure that would numb the pain I was already used to. I didn't want to be a dumb, predictable, teenage boy always trying to put a cork on a geyser of cum. I didn't want to add porn consumption to my problematic footprint, either. But this last summer, while Archie was … occupied elsewhere, and Betty was away... I couldn't stop thinking about her.

I couldn't stop thinking of how she looked on the last day of school, with her shirt tied under her breasts, and her shorts. This thing came up in me like an invasion of my senses, a hunger and a heat and a longing that both sucked rocks and transported me. I found myself on my cot in the drive-in, summer night 2 am full of sounding cicadas, biting my pillow, jerking my hips, beating off over and over. I was colonized by teenage lust, body-snatched by my own balls. Everything smelled like seed in the projection room, everything felt crunchy no matter how much washing I did in the sink. It was like spunk hell.

But if it's part of this, I'll take it. Because I feel so strong with her. When I mount her, when she's open to me and ready and I actually enter her body with my own flesh, it's so fucking instinctive and primal. That first push, to get the head in, her eyes tighten a little, like I'm hurting her, but she wants me to hurt her. When I get going and I really start taking her fast and hard, when she stops rising to meet me and starts letting me hit her pubis with mine, starts arching her back and letting me smash into her- it's like I'm the king of the world. Nothing matters but what I'm doing. I am in charge of both of our pleasure, I am responsible and I am worthy of it.

Not that she doesn't have her own power, her own drive. She gets up on my sweaty hips for a second round, she pushes me down with her slim hands, she grabs a fistful of my hair and grinds down on me like she's trying to take me so far inside I'll never be able to leave. She's silhouetted against the morning light as she rides me, lost in her pleasure, lost in taking me. A screen of golden hair shuts out the world. I can hold off as long as she needs me to, I can focus on her, I can be her fuckboy and let her use me. Her bedroom is warm in the mornings, it gets the morning light, and when we fuck before school, after her mom's gone to work, we both sweat. Our eyes are wide open, our mouths swollen, our genitals swollen, everything red and slick. If they had hot yoga in Riverdale, I think this is what hot yoga would be like, except at hot yoga I don't think anyone ever says, "I'd like to try it in my ass. Let's research it." It's different from the late nights when I sneak in the window, from the whispering and tenderness of candlelight.

"Make me come again, baby", she says in the mornings, "fuck me hard". And I do, I lunge up under her, giving her what she wants, I grab her hip with one hand and go for her clit with my thumb and rub her til she keens, til she bends and bites my neck. She'll ride me til I come in her and then climb up my body and clamp her thighs around my head and smear my face with all of it, sometimes her blood too, one time we actually had to sneak her pillow out of the house and replace it secretly during lunch. We had simply destroyed that pillow for all time. It had served nobly, and it was done.

In the morning she can come three times if I'm really on it. I give her everything, til she's wrung out, til I'm absolutely shaking. I bring a couple energy bars with me and spray food in the general direction of my face when I have a second. I have a vague understanding that this is not a repeatable phenomenon, that I get one halcyon haze of reciprocal love and trust and desire like this. I'm not missing a second.

Plus, if I don't wear her out in the morning she messes with me really badly all day at school. From sucking on her pen to "stretching" and showing me her hard nipples to grinding on her chair. The only thing worse than being a teenage boy who's not getting laid is being one who has to look at his love and not touch her all day. When his hands and his face still smell like her. When, seriously, I change for P.E. and the douche bros are all non-consensually huffing me as they shoulder by, like aunts over a newborn baby. You would think some of them never smelled a boy who smells like pussy before. Actually, I do think most of them have never smelled pussy. Or had their faces down deep in the sweet vag of a girl who loves them. Poor fools.

The front desk at the Pembroke is our mail order toy shipping depot and it's worked almost totally consistently well. There was this one mix-up where Smithers opened the package with the harness- which is sparkly- and I guess Veronica was even more embarrassed than he was? But I kind of feel like that's her issue?

Betty puts lipstick on me. I like it, I'm not gonna lie. I like the feel and the taste and how pretty I am and how we match. I put kiss prints all over her belly. I purse my lips for her and make eyes at her. How come nobody told me that falling in love is opening the world's biggest box of toys? How come nobody told me that being a boy is just the starting place, just one door into all the Narnias? I didn't know you could be anything, with whatever you have, until I was a man with her.


End file.
